"No shit." I took two steps toward him and took it from his hands. The weight was perfect. Not too heavy, not too light. The balance point sat exactly where it should for my grip.
I pulled it from the sheath.
The blade was beautiful. Darker metal than human steel, with a subtle pattern running through it like water frozen mid-flow. The edge was sharp enough to split air. But it was the grip that made my breath catch.
The curve of the leather matched my palm, accommodated the calluses I'd built up over years of weapons training. The pommel fit against the heel of my hand like it belonged there.
This wasn't a spare weapon. This wasn't something he'd picked up in Scalvaris markets.
"This is made for a human hand." I looked down at him, still kneeling, still watching me with those silver eyes.
"For your hand,kyvara."
That word again. The one he kept using, the one I'd been avoiding asking about because I was terrified of what it might mean. But I couldn’t keep running forever. "You keep calling me that."
"I do."
My fingers tightened on the grip. "Why do you have this knife?"
"Because it's yours."
"Butwhy?" The question came out desperate. Demanding. I needed to understand what was happening, what he was offering, what it meant that he'd been carrying a custom-made blade built for my hand.
The intensity of his gaze was hit enough to burn. "Because I'm yours. If you'll have me."
The words hit hard. Knocked the breath from my lungs, made the world tilt sideways.
I'm yours.
If I'd have him.
All the feelings I'd been shoving down for two days surged up at once. The dreams that had been tormenting me for weeks. The way my body responded to his proximity. The hollow ache in my chest every time I put distance between us. The terror of wanting someone this much, of needing them, of admitting that maybe I wasn't as independent as I'd always believed.
He was still kneeling. Still waiting.
How long had he been carrying this blade? How long had he been planning this moment, preparing for it, hoping for it?
The knife in my hand was an answer to a question I hadn't dared to ask. He'd made me a weapon. Had armed me, prepared me to be stronger, trusted me to use it well.
Well. Fuck it.
I'd made my choice the moment I decided to leave Scalvaris. Had made it when I let him come with me, when I'd slept with him in that cave, when I'd thrown myself between him and the firebird this morning without thinking.
I'd been fighting the inevitable. Pretending I had control over something that had been decided the moment our eyes met during the Skalanth.
I was done fighting.
I sheathed the knife. Set it carefully on the ground beside us. Then I grabbed the front of his armor and yanked him up.
He rose smoothly, following my pull. His hands found my waist, steadying me. Not restraining. Just there.
I looked up at him. At the silver eyes that had haunted my dreams, at the scales that caught the fading light, at the mouth I wanted to taste again.
"Yes," I said.
Then I kissed him.
13
